


Leave It To The Professionals

by OctoberSkies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fenhawke Week, Fluff and Humor, Sexual Tension, Short One Shot, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4390001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoberSkies/pseuds/OctoberSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>
    <b>Fenris sustains a minor injury in battle, and Hawke makes it her mission to patch him up.</b>
  </i>
</p>
<p>Written for FenHawke week. More of a short friendship fic, with mild sexual tension between the pair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave It To The Professionals

          "Hawke, is this really... _necessary?"_ Fenris' voice was relatively placid, the only hint that he was puzzled lying in how his lips turned downwards slightly as he plucked at the bandage being wound around his arm. The action was responded to by a quick slap, light and casually berating, delivered with precision from his unqualified nurse. Hawke had benevolently elected to take a rare break from sending people to the healer _herself_ to tend to a deep cut to his bicep. Why she had gone to such lengths was beyond him; it wasn't as though he hadn't been injured in a fight before. Yet here she was, sitting in Danarius' mansion, her brow furrowed as she struggled to tie off the bandage in the proper form, the cloth refusing to cooperate with her actions. After a moment's fumbling, her fingers far more suited to wielding a heavy staff than a reel of linen, she cursed, biting her lip in a way that drove Fenris mad at the best of times.

          "Maker's _breath!_ How come Anders makes it look so easy!" She huffed, repositioning herself as though getting a new angle on it would solve all her problems. Fenris, for his part, felt his expression almost instinctually furrow into a frown at the mention of the apostate's name.

          _"He_ taught you this? What for?" His tone always came across as more accusing than he intended, but it didn't seem to bother Hawke. Then again, she seemed almost immune to picking up _all_ social cues, not just his. With a defeated sigh, she shrugged, electing to tuck the linen beneath one of the layers to keep it in place.

          "Because I asked him to?" She inflected at the end, as though worried it was the wrong answer. "If you were less stubborn I wouldn't have had to. It's not like you're going to let him treat you. Also, you're right-handed."

          Fenris raised an eyebrow, "What has that got to do with anything?"

          "Well, how were you going to bandage _this_ with your _left hand_? _Hmm?"_ A smirk flitted across her face, as though she had just made a winning gambit, and she raised her own hand and waggled her fingers for emphasis. The warrior blinked slowly at her, mildly enjoying the way her confident expression wavered as he forced the silence to drag on until it bordered uncomfortable. Finally, he remitted, rescuing her from the peace and quiet she so loathed. After all, she felt forever inclined to fill it.

          "I would have managed. I am used to such things." The comment was flippant; he meant nothing by it, but he saw how Hawke flinched ever so slightly in response. Of course she would; the realities of a life like the one he led were still foreign to her; _confronting._ Realising his mistake, Fenris immediately sought to change the subject, rising quickly to his feet to locate something to distract his fr... _Hawke._ Thankfully, a whole bottle of distraction presented itself with little effort, and he snatched the Aggregio from a cabinet as though it was sought after by all of Kirkwall. The next task was some glasses - he rarely bothered to use them himself, electing to drink straight from the bottle. Another small gesture of defiance towards his former master, who was always _stringently obsessed_ with etiquette.

          "I swear every time I come here you've conjured up a new bottle of that stuff." Hawke chuckled as he finally located some glasses that would serve the purpose, crossing the room to sit across from the mage once again. _A mag_ e, Fenris mused as he pulled the cork from the bottle with a satisfying pop. _Of all things to be sharing a drink with, alone, in a dark mansion._ Even in his wildest dreams he would not have considered such a thing a possibility. At least, not one he would have engaged in willingly.

          "The cellar was well-stocked." Fenris innocently poured her a glass, the rich liquid sloshing invitingly within its transparent vessel, licking up the sides. "It is one of the few times I am thankful for Tevinter's obsession with the _finer_ things."

          "Yes... I agree." The way she purred the words was not lost on the elf as she accepted the offered wine, and for a moment he felt a strange tug in his gut, both uncomfortable and exhilarating at the same time. He cleared his throat, making to pour himself a glass before swiftly changing his mind, electing instead to place the bottle to his lips and drink it straight. _Another minor victory_. His skin prickled at the sound of Hawke's laugh, and the lack of judgement that lay within it.

          "So I have to drink from a glass like a street thug while you get to down it like a noble at a party?" She peered at him from over the rim, eyes crinkling in mirth as he swiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. Sometimes she confused him - saying one thing and meaning the other. He watched her for a moment, pensively, before deciding she was probably... what was it? _Pulling his leg_.

          "Is there a problem, _Lady Hawke_?" He kept the mood light, ending the question with one of his rare smiles. He surprised himself when he realised that the expression, for once, was not forced.

          "Not at all, _Ser._ I have been privy to more than one etiquette class since arriving at Kirkwall, and that's _definitely_ how you drink a proper Tevinter vintage." She beamed, looking positively radiant in the lamplight, her cerulean eyes glittering with a warmth Fenris could only dream of losing himself in. _How long had it been since that day in the alienage, when Hawke had unwittingly come to his aid?_ _How come, despite the fact she had been deceived into walking into a trap for him, she continued to allow him by her side?_ Even after he had been so cruel to her - so _distrusting_ of her, purely because of how she was born.

          "Hawke..." He began after a moment of quiet drinking, and the words were unsteady; tentative like the thoughts plaguing his mind. She hummed in acknowledgement, and he knew he had her undivided attention. He stared at deeply into the bottle, as though it was the most fascinating thing in the room. What a  _lie_ that was.

         "... Thank you."

          She quirked her eyebrow."For?"

         "Everything."

         Hawke smiled. Not that coy smirk that so often graced her features, but one of pure sincerity, born from a warm place inside her that never seemed to grow cool.

          "Oh _come on now_ , there's no need to thank me for _everything,_ surely. I've put all you good folks through a lot of _awful_ crap."

          "Hmm, perhaps not as awful as you'd think..." Fenris pretended to mull over the comment, before chuckling quietly. He raised his right arm, the bandage unravelling gently with the movement, flitting tauntingly before his companion in the lowlight. "... Although perhaps I will reserve thanks for _this_."

         "Ugh Andraste's _tits!_ Hold still..."


End file.
